


Gas Station Anthology

by EveryHybrid



Category: Tales from the Gas Station
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 7,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29976237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveryHybrid/pseuds/EveryHybrid
Summary: A collection of ficlets, most of which are upsetting.
Kudos: 4





	1. Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, these fics are like 95% angst. DO NOT READ.

She'd been preparing for a lovely date with a Lush bubblebath when her phone chirped the text tone she'd set specifically for Jack. Amy rolled her eyes and went to check it. He was probably asking her to remind him about their lunch plans tomorrow, because he'd forget otherwise. She swore that boy would forget his own head if-

When she opened her messages, her blood ran cold.

"sos"

Those three letters had her dressed and in her cruiser in under a minute. Her sirens blared as she raced down the dark, wet roads towards the shitty gas station at the edge of town.

When Amy threw the doors open and stormed in, gun at the ready, her heart sunk further. Shelves were toppled, glass was broken, groceries where strewn across the bloodied floor.

"Jack?!" She shouted into the quiet store. Whatever had happened here was over now. The lack of response was slowly driving her to panic. Amy crept by the aisles, looking down each one, preparing herself for the worst. And then she saw it.

At the end of the last aisle, a large huddle of clothes and human laid on the floor. Amy threw caution to the wind and ran towards them.

Jerry was the first body she recognized. Someone had roughed him up pretty good, but the fatal wounds had been a gun shot to the back, then one to the head: a cowardly execution.

It took her a moment to register the other huddled mass as Jack. He had beaten to an absolute pulp, his face almost completely unrecognizable. If the bloody drag marks across the floor were any indication, he'd been alive when his attackers left.

Amy knelt down beside them, a numbness blocking what she was seeing from her mind. This wasn't real. It couldn't be.

"Jack?" She hesitantly reached for him, paused to try and find a spot that wasn't blood soaked, then gave up and shook the wet shoulder of his hoodie gently. "Please Jack, please don't do this. You can't be-" Her voice caught in her throat. It was starting to set in now: they were gone. Both of them. Her eyes wandered to Jack's hands: bony and fragile, broken with defensive wounds, clutching Jerry's. She couldn't stop the sob that tore from her throat, or the wail, or the tears rolling down her cheeks.

She couldn't save them. She'd been too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you. You shoulda clicked back while you still could.


	2. Awkward...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok this one is kinda goofy

Today was going to be a good day. He would be sure of that. Spencer sped down the road in his black Mustang, his foot holding the gas pedal to the floor. The tires squealed as he tore into the gas station parking lot. He slammed the car door behind him. He wasn't counting on the element of surprise this time. No, he wanted them to know he was coming. He wanted to see the fear in their eyes. 

He threw the doors open and stepped inside. 

"SURPRISE!"

"GAH!" Spencer jumped back at the sudden onslaught of confetti, balloons, and cheering, happy people. He regained his composure quickly. His eyes flew to a "Happy Birthday" banner hanging above the counter. His expression changed. Suddenly, it was almost softer.

"Wha-...how did you know?" They threw him a party? After everything he'd done to them? That was...he didn't know how to express it. This would be the first birthday party he'd ever had.

He looked back at the crowd gathered and searched it until he found Jack's shocked face. "How did you know today was my birthday?" 

Jack gulped. "This was a surprise party...for Jerry," He said slowly.


	3. A Happy Ending?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: it's not a happy ending.

It had been three days since my last customer, and to say that I was struggling to keep my head above the figurative water was an understatement. I was using the abundance of unpaid bills and past due notices to start the trash fires out back. The trash service had stopped coming almost a week ago. I suspected Howard had something to do with that.

I was scrounging in the supply closet for something edible that wouldn't be missed when I heard her voice.

"Anyone here? Hello? Jack?"

I would have known that voice anywhere. It was impossible. It couldn't be... _Her_.

I poked my head out of the closet and sure enough, she was there. She was just as beautiful as ever: her wavy hair, her green eyes, her crooked smile when she saw me.

"What are you doing here, Sabine?"

"What are you doing hiding in a closet?" She giggled as she came over to me, and my heart ached. Her laugh was so familiar, but felt so distant now. Something wasn't right; my brain was throwing me red flags, but I couldn't figure out why. It was Sabine! She was here! This was great! A miracle even! This was...impossible. That word played in my head again.

_"Dude! That's a mimic! Hit the deck!"_ Jerry's head warned me.

"You're...you can't be here." I slowly made my way past her towards the counter where my gun was hidden.

_"Get the nine mill. She won't know what hit her!"_

"Why not?" Sabine's eyes followed me, big, bright, and confused.

"Because you're d- ...You aren't real. You can't be." My fingers closed around the cold metal grip of the pistol.

"Well, I must be real, because I'm right here, Jacky"

I froze. I felt a cold pain in my chest at the sound of my old nickname. I released the gun and looked at her with what was probably the dumbest, slack jawed look I could have possibly made.

_"Dude! What are you waiting for?! Drop that thing before it goes feral!"_

"Yeah, you're right, huh." I slowly smiled and walked around from behind the counter, leaving the gun behind.

I could feel my eyes sting with tears as I approached her and held my arms out. She happily accepted my hug and wrapped her arms around my neck. "I've missed, Sabby. I've missed you so much..."

" _Jack_!"

The last thing I heard was the snap of my own vertebrae. But I didn't care. My last thoughts were happy ones.


	4. What if Spencer Didn't Keep His Promise?

Jerry woke up with the worst hang over he'd had this week. But at the same time, his gut felt strangely warm and fuzzy. He looked around at the others as they slowly came to as well. They must have had a kick ass party here. Too bad he couldn't remember any of it...

Jerry slowly stood and teetered a little. He rubbed his head and let out a goofy laugh. "Wow. I didn't take y'all for the part animal types! Especially you Jacky Boy. You- ... Jack?"

He paused and glanced around in bleary-eyed confusion. His best friend was nowhere to be seen. That wasn't like him. Jerry began to sober up quickly. The last time Jack went missing, Jerry had found him in a hole with a broken leg. That was when he noticed the blood on the floor.

"Jack?!" He stormed out of the cooler and into the gas station. Nothing really looked amiss. No more than usual anyway. He rifled around the place, looking for clues or any sign of what might have happened. His eyes were drawn to the windows of the front doors. There were footprints in the snow. Half buried and probably a couple hours old, but they were definitely footprints. Two sets. 

Jerry grabbed the nearest weapon, the old shovel, and ran outside into the brutal cold without hesitation. "Jack!"

He followed the trail around back to what was no doubt the scene of a fight. The snow was tinted red in spots all around him. There worst of it had stained a large patch red with blood. Something had been killed, or at least severely injured. The drag marks led off into the woods. Jerry almost followed them, hot with rage and sick with worry. But something told him that he would be looking in the wrong place if he did.

Instead, his eyes kept coming back to an oddly shaped snow drift that laid against the side of the building. Finally, Jerry went over to investigate it. 

He dug his bare hands into the snow, and jumped when his fingers grazed ice cold skin. Panic took over, and he grabbed the frozen body by the shirt and hauled it out in one fluid motion.

Jerry felt his knees go weak. They hit the snowy ground as his heart felt like it was torn from his chest. He quickly pulled off his fur coat and wrapped it around Jack's cold, stiff shoulders. His lips were blue, his eye lids frozen shut. Jerry knew deep down that the coat wouldn't help, but he refused to admit defeat.

"Jack?" He croaked softly. "Jacky Boy? C'mon buddy. Let me see those peepers." He patted Jack's cheek, but he got no response. A sob tore from deep within his chest. Jerry shifted so that his back was to the brick wall and pulled the small, fragile man into his lap. 

"Please Jack," He whimpered softly. Tears burned his eyes. He buried his face into the frozen fabric of Jack's hoodie. "Please wake up..."

When Amy found him, his shoulders and hair had been dusted with a thin layer of snow. His own lips were starting to turn blue as he clutched his best friend's body, refusing to let go. 

Amy immediately called for an ambulance. Then, she silently knelt down in front of them. Her fingers trembled as it went to Jack's neck, checking for any sign of a pulse. She drew back and covered her mouth with her hand. 

They sat in silence until the ambulances arrived. Amy didn't try to pry them apart. She shakily sat down in the snow next to Jerry and wrapped an old packing blanket over his shoulders.

When the EMTs arrived, getting Jerry to go with them had required a struggle and some ketamine. 

The next day, he was right back at work. Amy couldn't understand why he forced himself to be here in this condition. All he did was sit behind the counter, holding that crutch to his chest, and only breaking his catatonic state long enough to check customers out. 

She tried to intervene, but he wouldn't even talk to her. Amy couldn't say she was all that surprised when the missing person report came in. The crutch had been left leaning against the wall behind the register, the bus had been cleared out.

Jerry was a runner. When things went south, he ran. After the cult situation, he'd only stayed in town for Jack. Without him, he was just on the run again.


	5. What if Jerry Never Ran Away?

"I can't believe that part where the pirates kidnapped the alien leaders and then the princess-" Rosa was mid-gush about the latest book they were reading. The book club of two was going well. Jack enjoyed having someone to discuss his taste in cheap novels with. But, sometimes...

"Excuse me miss," A voice cut her off, causing them both to jump. Jack hadn't even noticed these two walk in. The older man was portly and neat, dressed in a white suit and white leather loafers. He looked like some sort of cross between a Colonel Sanders and Doug Dimmadome. Jack's eyes wandered over to the other man with him. He was significantly younger. Neatly trimmed blond hair, athletic build, sharp suit, easy going expression.

"If I may share a word of advice: If you have time to lean, you have time to clean."

Rosa's jaw snapped shut as she glared at the older man who had spoken. Jack knew that look. He was quick to intervene before this could get ugly.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"Well it's about time someone asked. My associate and I have been standing here for five minutes and no one has even made an attempt at some common courtesy. How on Earth do you keep your customers coming back with a cold shoulder?"

Jack noticed that the man's "associate" had taken some interest in the locally sourced pork rinds, and seemed to be mostly ignoring them. He certainly didn't seem all that upset.

"I'm...sorry?" Jack offered. "Is there anything I can help you with _now_?"

"My goodness. I can tell that we're going to have our hands full whipping this place into shape. I don't usually come down and do the dirty work myself, but I can tell this project is going to take some closer supervision than most."

The associate was now staring at Jack, who was starting to feel uneasy. "Who are you again?"

"I'm sorry, where are my manners? I'm Doctor Francis Howard, and this is my business partner Mr. Jeremy Pascal. We are the soon to be owners of this gas station."

"You can call me Jerry," Mr. Jeremy Pascal said quickly after Dr. Howard's introduction. 

"I've got something better to call you," Jack just barely heard Rosa mutter under her breath. He frowned, deeply confused by the older man's statement. He'd had a lot of weird things happen around here, but a customer trying to buy the gas station? Well...there's a first for everything...

"I don't think the gas station is for sale," Jack said gently to the clearly confused older gentleman. He halfway expected "Jerry" to apologize for his senile grandfather and lead him away. But that didn't happen.

"Everything's for sale if you got enough cha-ching," Jerry chirped. Dr. Howard rolled his eyes.

"What Mr. Pascal means is that we've already spoken with the owners, Mammaw and Pops, and we've come to a sort of agreement. They wanted to keep it hush hush, but I thought I'd need to come by and see the place for myself. You must be Jack. The owners have told me so much about yo-"

"Is that a Five Loko? No way! They banned these back home!" Jerry interrupted Dr. Howard to snatch the death in a can from the cold drink case. 

"Oh, yeah, this town has a pretty blatant disregard for safety standards." Jack watched the man scoop up an armful of the drink and pile it onto the counter. He began ringing it up. Dr. Howard gave an annoyed sigh. 

"Well, I think this introduction could have gone better for all of us, but at least now we know where to start. I suggest you two take a good, long look around here and ask yourselves if you are really doing the best job that you can."

"Why don't take those cans and sho-"

"We'll get right on that." Jack cut Rosa off before she could say something she might regret later on. These two weren't worth it.


	6. What if Jack was 5% Dumber?

I pressed the barrel of the gun into the steadily bleeding wound on my wrist as Spencer rubbed his hands together in eager suspense. Pulling the trigger would be the easy part. What happened next was going to suck. And if I survived long enough to get to the shapeshifter... then what? I’d have to find out when I found out, but first, I needed to finish removing my own hand so I could finally be free of these handcuffs and- BAM!

I screamed in agony. It hurt so _fucking bad._ And that's when I realized that Spencer had been right: the tourniquet hadn't been tight enough. Blood was gushing _everywhere_. I could feel myself starting to panic while Spencer cackled wildly in the background.

"You actually did it!" He laughed gleefully, "You shot yourself! God you're such an idiot!"

I was in shock. It took me way too long to figure out what I had to do next. I took the box cutter and I began to saw at my own, broken arm. I didn't make it far before I began to feel woozy.

"Hey! What're you doing? You can't die now!" Spencer had pulled himself back together and come back over.

"I can't do it," I said softly. I was already little more than a puddle on the floor, paler than normal except for the blood that was smeared all over me. Spencer took off his belt and wrapped it around my upper arm. He pulled it tight, tighter than I could stand, the way a tourniquet should _actually_ be. The blood instantly began to slow.

"There. Now get up and do what you're supposed to do!"

I looked at my hand, still clinging to my body by tendons and strings. I tried to reach for the box cutter again, but my vision was too blurry. Spencer rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

"I really have to do everything around here, don't I." He picked up the blade and made short work of what remained of my wrist. _He_ certainly had no problems cutting off my body parts.


	7. What if Tony Didn't Miss?

Marlboro pulled me to my feet and handed me the crutches. Before I could say, “Let’s cheese it,” the man on the ground started coming to and moaning loudly. Without hesitation, Marlboro walked over to his side and asked in a genuinely concerned voice, “Hey man, are you alright?” Tony pointed his gun at Marlboro and fired.

My heart skipped a beat when his body hit the ground. I looked back up at Tony, who was slowly getting to his feet. I didn't have time to process what just happened, I had to run. 

Obviously, I wasn't going anywhere fast. I wasn't exactly athletic to begin with, and the crutches and broken leg really didn't help. I knew if I didn't think fast, Tony would catch up to me.

When I saw the old, fallen log, I dove for it. The center was rotted out just enough to crawl inside. I pulled my crutches in and held my breath as a what was almost certainly a spider crawled down the neck of my shirt.

Tony ran past. My heart pounded so hard I was sure he'd hear it, but he kept going. As soon as I was sure he was gone, I crawled out, did a spider dance, and made my way back to poor Marlboro.

He was still laying on the ground when I got to him. I knelt down beside him and shook him gently, trying to ignore the feeling of hot blood squishing in between my fingers. 

"Marlboro?"

He stirred weakly and looked up at me. He was pale. I knew he wouldn't make it long enough to get back to the gas station. He said something softly that I couldn't make out.

"What?" I leaned in closer.

"I...hate it when you call me Marlboro."


	8. What if Jerry Killed Spencer Instead? Pt 1

"What if Jerry Killed Spencer Instead? Pt1"

“Wrong on both accounts. If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. And a bomb? Seriously? Not my style.” I think he had more to say to me, but he didn’t get the chance, because right then Jerry grabbed him by the chin, yanked his head back, and wiped a katana blade across his neck, neatly slicing his head halfway off. Blood erupted out in a couple spurts, then stopped, and Spencer Middleton was no more.

Jerry's face was a mixture of maliciousness and glee. He casually wiped the blade clean on his shirt. "Damn, I've always wanted to do that." 

Spencer's body laid in a bloody mess on the floor. Man, it really sucked for whoever was going to have to clean this up. Jerry stepped over him and walked up to me. 

"Where'd that sweaty, Action Hank looking guy go?"


	9. What if Jerry Killed Spencer Instead? Pt 2

It had been a particularly slow night. Jerry sat behind the register, doodling ideas for his bullet wound cover up tattoo. He looked up when he thought he heard the front door open, but no one had come inside. Must have been the wind. Or the gnomes. 

He looked back down at his paper to continue doodling, but a sudden chill ran up his spine as he felt a sudden presence behind him.

"Night night, bitch." The familiar voice growled in his ear. Jerry jumped up, but he wasn't quick enough to escape the arm wrapping around his neck and pulling him to the floor. He kicked and flailed and struggled, but the harder he thrashed, the harder Spencer squeezed. Holy shit he was strong.

After a minute or two, the world began to swim, and Jerry's vision tunneled. Spencer only released him when he finally went limp.

When Jerry joined the waking world, he was laying flat on his back, looking up at the stars. Then, an evil, sneering bastard blocked his view. "Hey Jerry. You miss me?"

"Oh, hey Suspencer. You're looking awfully alive," Jerry grinned at the hidden jab in his little quip. Spencer wasn't amused. He lifted the shovel he was holding and brought the blade end down inches from Jerry's head. For a moment there, Jerry thought he might have been decapitated by a blunt gardening tool. Jerry lifted his head up off the ground and started to roll to sit up, but Spencer planted a boot in his chest that sent him sprawling back again.

"Hold still," He ordered calmly, "I want to see how close I can get." He lifted the shovel again and buried it so close to Jerry's head that tiny bits of dirt smacked his cheek. Jerry blinked.

"You're hard right now, aren't you?"

Jerry's lack of fear clearly set the psycho off. He growled like a rabid dog, pulling the shovel out and burying it again, this time so close that Jerry could feel the cold metal brush against his ear. Jerry cracked a sly grin. "Ha! I knew it!"

Spencer tossed the shovel aside and ran his dirt covered hand through his hair. This clearly wasn't how he'd pictured this going. A scowl etched into his face as he rounded on Jerry again. 

"Get up," He ordered, "I got something to show you. I bet it'll wipe that stupid smile off your face."

Jerry followed Spencer to where he'd parked his Mustang. He could have run, but honestly, he was curious as to what Spencer could possibly have that could be so shocking. Maybe it was that one really bad school yearbook photo of Jerry, that year he had braces with headgear. Was Spencer above blackmail? Probably not. 

Jerry hummed his way all the way to the car, and waited patiently while Spencer popped the trunk and hauled something heavy out of it. He dropped the cargo at Jerry's feet, and suddenly, Jerry knew he had been right. The smile immediately left his face. 

"Van?" He half whispered, all cheerful demeanor suddenly gone. He knelt down next to the teenage girl, who looked a little bruised and scuffed, but otherwise unharmed. Spencer had her mouth taped shut and arms zip tied behind her. Jerry immediately raised a hand to remove the tape, but the barrel of a rifle shoved into his chest stopped him.

"Where's that cocky attitude now, huh?" Spencer was smiling again, reveling in having the upper hand once more. "Little Vanessa sure did miss you. All she would talk about is how her 'big bro Jerry was gonna' come save her'." He said the last bit in a mocking tone.

Jerry looked into the scared brown eyes that gazed desperately back at him. Vanessa had tears streaming down her cheeks as she tried to telepathically send him some sort of message. Whatever it was, it wasn't working. Jerry glared up at Spencer.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" 

"I'm just settling the score." Spencer cocked the gun. "You and me, we got beef, and here's how we're gonna' make it even." That's when Spencer took them both by surprise. He flipped the gun around and held it with the butt end towards Jerry. 

"Here's the deal: I'm gonna' give you this gun. You've got two choices. If you put a bullet in your own brains, I'll let Vanessa go. If you shoot her instead, I'll let _you_ go." He grinned and jabbed the gun towards Jerry. "Choose wisely."

Jerry immediately grabbed the gun, aimed at Spencer, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Spencer threw his head back and cackled into the sky. Then, he looked back down at them with the most evil, cold eyes that Jerry had ever seen. "Wrong choice."

Spencer produced a box cutter from his pocket. He grabbed Vanessa by the hair, pulled her head back, and dragged the blade across her throat.

"NO!" Jerry watched in horror as the life drained from her eyes. He gritted his teeth. His blood boiled. He stood with the gun in his hand and threw himself at Spencer. 

Spencer was a good fighter. Probably the best that Jerry had ever fought. But Jerry had pure, primal rage on his side. He took his fair share of punches, but eventually he had the asshole pinned. He wailed on Spencer until his knuckles broke. He wouldn't stop until he saw _brains_. Tears flowed down his cheeks and obscenities spewed from his lips.

"Jerry!"

"You mother fucking son of a-"

"JERRY!"

It took two sets of hands to pull him off of the unconscious man. O'Brien and Jack had apparently come looking for him. Amy went to secure Spencer, and Jack knelt down next to him to try and calm him down.

"Jerry, what's going on?"

"He killed her! He fucking _killed_ her! Right in front of me! I'll murder that bastard, let me at him!" Jerry lunged towards Spencer again, but Jack caught him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Jerry, stop. You got him. Killed who?"

"Vanessa! She's right over there, she's-" He stopped and turned to look over at the spot where he'd seen her fall. There was no body. She was gone. Someone must have snuck up and moved her while he beat Spencer senseless. "She was right there. I saw her. He had her in his trunk. He killed her! There should be blood!"

But there wasn't.

"I believe you," Jack said in that 'I don't really believe you' kind of voice, "But we have to let Amy do her job. Come on, let's go get you cleaned up."


	10. What if Jack Tyler Durdened That Guy into Existence?

Right then, Marlboro walked into the room, zipping up his fly. Presumably, he had just come from the bathroom, but with Marlboro, who really knows? I pointed at him and yelled, “That guy! You see him too, right?! It’s Marlboro!” Antonio looked where I was pointing, then back at me.

"Jack. There's nobody there."

_______________

Jerry stared at me with his forehead wrinkled and a look of steady concentration on his face. When he realized my story was over, he took a couple of deep yoga breaths and said, “Wow. That is some heavy stuff.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Thank you for sharing all of that with me.”

I looked back up at him, and for a brief moment, he was gone. The school bus we sat in was old, covered in kudzu, and I was sitting on an old, moldy bench seat. It was dark, cold, and I was alone.

I blinked, and everything snapped back to normal. "What the hell was that?" I asked as I rubbed my eyes.

"What was what?"

________________

“You know, for the record, I don’t think it’s weird that you have Vanessa’s game.” 

He gave me a puzzled stare. “What?” 

"I-" I paused when I realized it wasn't Jerry who had spoken. I glanced up and saw one of the gas station regulars standing at the counter, staring back at me. 

"I just wanna' to pay for my gas, man."

I glanced around the space behind the counter. Jerry was gone. The video games were gone. The smell of cooked steak was gone. A sad, empty "Salisbury Steak and Mashed Potatoes" frozen dinner box sat on the floor instead. 

I sighed, stood up, and rung up the man's total.


	11. What if the Head was Rosa?

"What if the head was Rosa?" 

What? What is this? Why?! Why would he send me this?! I held the head in my hands and inspected it. The feel of the loose, cold skin… the wet hair… the way the bottom jaw fell open… these images will forever haunt me, but none more than that look in its eyes. I wish to God the eyes weren’t open. I wish she weren’t looking back at me… I wish I didn’t recognize whose head this was. The long, dark hair, the pink highlights, the now smeared lipstick. There was no mistaking it. Rosa was dead. And I was staring into her cold, lifeless eyes.   
.  
.  
.  
I knelt down onto my good knee and placed the box inside the hole, but before I could get back up, I heard someone say, “Don't you dare leave me down here, Jack Townsend!"

I jumped and spun around, looking for the source of the scolding tone. "Hello? Is someone out there? This, uh, isn't what it looks like..."

"It better look like you pulling this box out of this hole, mister."  
.  
.  
.  
"Hey, can you play me some Katie Perry?" 

"Rosa, please, if I have to hear about being a plastic bag one more time-"

"That song is a classic!"

"I think we have different ideas of a 'classic'."

"Oh! Wait! Look alive, Jack, clone guy incoming!"

I watched as one of our regulars came in the door, and slowly reached for Ricardo.


	12. What if Jack was 5% More Socially Competent?

“I don’t get it, you know? I don’t know what I did to make him not like me so much.”

They could be talking about anyone, I thought.

Jerry answered, “Yeah, I know what you mean. There’s a wall there. Most of the people he lets get close to him either die or try to kill him. Sometimes both.”

Okay, that settles it. They are definitely talking about me.  
Jerry took a long, deep breath and continued, “If it helps any, I don’t think he likes me very much either.”

Wow. Suddenly, I felt pretty damn small. I knew if I didn't say the right thing, I would kick myself later. So, I steeled my nerves, and cleared my throat. They both sat up and turned to look at me. For a moment, I froze. No, I couldn't chicken out. I had to set this right.

"I, uh, heard you guys talking about me."

"Oh my god, Jack, I'm so sorry," Rosa covered her mouth with her hand.

"No. _I'm_ sorry. I'm sorry that I made you guys feel like I don't care about you. I do. You two are the best friends I have, and you both mean the world to me. I...know I tend to hold people at arm's length, but...I really do like you guys." My eyes found my shoes very interesting.

I didn't even get time to look back up before they both collided with me. Rosa wrapped her arms around my torso, and then Jerry wrapped his arms around both of us.

"Aw, I knew you were soft deep down, Jacky boy!" Jerry crooned.


	13. What if Jack had Changed his Mind?

He pushed himself upright and looked me in the eyes. “I understand. You’re all alone here. Hey, it’s enough to make anybody lose their marbles, and you weren’t exactly starting at the same baseline as the rest of us. You need a friend. Help me out of this and I’ll stay with you. We’ll get through this thing together. I promise.”

I blinked. I didn't realize that the burning/pricking sensation in my eyes were tears starting to form. He was right, and I knew it. I couldn't take being alone anymore.

Maybe I was wrong, and this Benjamin was a mimic. At this point, I was so tired, it didn't seem to matter. He quieted down and focused on not bleeding out as I carefully released the traps. Getting him back inside like this was certainly going to be a task.

_Too bad Jerry can't help._

When we finally got in the door, I walked over to the cooler. "Hey Jerry, what are the chances you were wrong about this one?"

"I dunno. Like 5% I guess?"

"Wait, really?!"

"Well yeah, you can't expect me to be right all the time!"

"What the fuck, Jerry!"

Benjamin watched the disturbed young man have an entire conversation with a cooler. Part of him wanted to see what was inside, and part of him didn't really care. Finally, Jack came back over with the remains of the gas station med kit and sat down to try and help Benjamin bandage his bear trap injuries.

"I'm, uh, sorry I tricked you into sticking your hand in a bear trap," Jack said awkwardly as he wrapped Benjamin's giant hand in gauze and tape. His hand was comically large compared to the partially emaciated clerk. Benjamin scrunched his brow, as if to say something snarky, but one look at the miserable state Jack was in, and his eyes softened a bit.

He took a deep breath, and then sighed. "It's okay, kid. You been through a lot. I know what it's like to have to be on edge. It'll get to anyone." 

Jack didn't say anything for a moment. Benjamin wondered if he was having another one of his spells...or whatever the fuck it was that he did. But then Jack spoke, softly. "I really miss him. I...miss everyone, but I miss _him_ the most."

"Who? That stoner friend of yours? I thought you said he was here."

"He is. Well, sort of. It's just his head. He tells me who I can and can't trust. But it's not the same-"

"Wait, back up." Benjamin sat up, "You're not telling me that your boyfriend's head is in that cooler, are you?"

Jack quietly began putting the medical supplies away and avoided Benjamin's gaze. 

"Uh, not that there's anything wrong with that?" Benjamin offered, inwardly cringing at how harsh his words had come out. 

"No. It's weird. But I guess it's helped me hold it together, you know? These last few weeks have been so fucked up, I guess the head in the cooler started to seem almost normal."

Benjamin slowly stood. While Jack put the kit away, he lumbered over to the cooler to see this mess for himself. He preemptively grimaced as he prodded the lid open with a finger. The smell that hit him almost made him hurl.

He grit his teeth and leaned over to look inside. His eyes widened. 

"Jack!"

"What?"

"Come here!"

"Why?"

"Dammit Jack, just get your ass over here!"

Jack came slinking up to the counter, and noticed Benjamin hovering over his head cooler. "What are you doing?"

"Kid, I don't know what kind of drugs you're on, or if you're just having a complete breakdown. But this head isn't your buddy. Hell, this thing doesn't even look _human_."

"What? That can't-" Jack leaned over to take a look, and suddenly, he could see the head for what it really was. The loose, purple skin hung and drooped on the decaying face. There was no hair, and the eyes were pitch black and roughly golf ball sized. It certainly wasn't Jerry.

"But I saw him."

"I'm sure you did, kid. Why don't we chunk this thing and get you some decent chow, huh?"


	14. What if the Handwriting Matched?

I made a fresh pot of coffee, cleaned up the mess around the drink case, took the photo from Karl’s place out of my wallet, and compared the writing on the back to the “Case Closed” sign that Jerry had made. My heart skipped a beat. The little swoop on the Cs, the flowery As...this was the same handwriting, there was no doubt about it. 

My blood ran cold when that realization hit me. Just then, I heard the shuffling sounds of Jerry's steps approaching me from behind.

"Hey Jackaroo. Whatcha' got there?"


	15. What if Jerry was Allowed to Interrogator Spencer Instead?

He didn't want to think about the favor he owed Roger for this. It was worth it. Whether anything came of the next twenty minutes or not, Jerry would be sure to make it worth his time. 

When he opened the door to the tiny interrogation room, the man shackled to the table looked up and cracked a wicked smile. 

"They'll hire anyone around here, won't they?" He said in that gravelly voice of his. It grated on Jerry's nerves every time he heard it. 

"Let's make this quick, Spencer." Jerry kicked the chair on his side of the table away and stood in its place, arms crossed. For once, he wasn't smiling. "Where is she?"

"Your little one leg girlfriend? Still at that shitty gas station last time I checked." He snickered.

" _Vanessa_." Jerry wasn't here to fuck around. 

"Yeah, I was wondering when you'd come looking for her. You really know how to hook 'em, don't you, Pascal? Although, I never would have pegged you to be the jailbait type."

That was the last straw. Jerry knew Spencer was trying to goad him. If he wanted an ass whooping, Jerry was more than happy to deliver. He grabbed the shitty table and flipped it, taking Middle with it as his shackles pulled him to the floor. Jerry walked around and pressed his shoe to Spencer's neck.

"You don't want to try me right now," Jerry growled. 

"Who pissed in _your_ cornflakes, huh?" Spencer croaked. "Why don't you take these cuffs off and fight me like a man? Or do you wanna' take me out like a coward? Like you did to Sa-"

Jerry pressed down harder with his shoe until Spencer was gagging and rasping for air. The door to the room opened, and the officer looked them both over lazily.

"Time's up."


	16. What if Rosa was the Attacker?

"What if Rosa was the Attacker?"

I looked at my phone again. This attack was coming soon. Rosa could not be here for it.

“Maybe a rain check?”

“Okay,” she said disappointedly. “Maybe.” And then she stood there, staring at me expectantly. I glanced at my phone again. One minute. And then it hit me.

" _Oh no_."

When I looked back up, Rosa had managed to steal my bat. She now had a malicious grin on her face. I backed away slowly. What could I do? I couldn't fight _Rosa_!

"Rosa, please, can we not do this? We were just having a moment and now it feels a lot less genuine..."

"Oh Jack. You're such a stupid little boy. Maybe if you hadn't have fired me, the Collector wouldn't have had a chance to collect me." She patted the bat in her palm rhythmically as she approached, closing the gap between us. "Hold still. This won't hurt for long."


	17. What if Jerry Lost the Fight?

Rosa pulled me back up and let me lean on her as we cut straight through the compound, stopping briefly for some medical supplies before leaving through the rear exit. Out back, under the string canopy of Christmas lights, surrounded by the perimeter of Christmas mannequins, things felt a lot less grim. In fact, things almost felt safe back here. By the time we made it to Jerry’s bus, I’d almost forgotten why we were even here in the first place. I was feeling light-headed and strangely warm.

That feeling didn't last long, however. As we approached the bus, I couldn't help but notice the little red droplets on the ground that were almost certainly blood. Rosa hadn't seen them yet. I was still debating whether or not to bring them up when she gasped and let go of me to cover her mouth. I wobbled and almost fell before I caught my balance.

"Oh my god! Jerry?!" Rosa shrieked and ran to the figure huddled on the ground right outside the bus doors. From a distance, it had looked like a heap of dirty clothes. Up close, one could tell that there was a human in there. And that the shirt he was wearing was white, not red.

I staggered over as best I could and dropped to my knee next to Rosa as she tried to shake him awake. Someone had done a real number on him. His face was beaten purple and his eyes were swollen shut. After a few seconds of Rosa crying, shaking him, and me disassociating, he finally started to come to.

"Jack? Rosa?" He groaned weakly.

"Oh thank god," The words fell out of my mouth when I realized he wasn't actually dead. Rosa let out a tearful squeak.

"We're gonna' have to call someone," She said, trying to pull herself together to be the adult here. She was the only one not currently halfway in the grave at the moment. "I...I need to find some cell service. Jack, will you be okay watching him?"

"Yeah," I said groggily, "We'll be fine." She was hesitant, but her need to call for help was stronger than her immediate concern. Rosa stood and walked away, holding her cell phone in the air.

I slowly began to crumple next to Jerry. I felt so cold, and the pain from the latest fight was starting to get to me. But Jerry was here, so everything should be alright, right?

"You look like you went ten rounds with a wolverine," Jerry said softly with a smile. His teeth were red from his bleeding gums.

"You don't look so hot yourself," I croaked. I laid my forehead on his side. It felt like someone had a gravity dial and was slowly turning it up. I could feel myself sinking to the ground and on top of him. But, somehow, that was okay.

Then a thought struck me. "Hey Jerry," I said softly.

"Yeah?"

"You're my best friend, and I really love you guys. I...should say that more often."

"I love you too, Jack."


	18. What if Jack Remembered Tony's Death Wrong?

“Now let me ask you a question, Jack. You know, ‘cause you’re in such an honest mood right now. What ever happened to Tony? Huh? I’ve been sitting here in the dark all night, and I can’t shake this weird thought. Am I the only one that wants to know why Tony isn’t here?”

Before I could say anything else, he threw his head back and cackled. "Oh, that's right," he looked at me with his cold, black eyes and shit eating grin, "You killed him."

"I did not!" I snapped, "If you're going to sprew bullshit, at least try to make it _believable_ ". Spencer smirked.

"Yeah, if only I had some way to prove it. Hold on." He squirmed in his binds until his phone fell out of his back pocket. "Go to the gallery, flip back to that date. You'll see."

I didn't take my eyes off of him for a moment as I slowly stepped forward and picked up the phone. Something in that knowing grin of his made my stomach sink. He still didn't have a lock on his phone; cocky dumbass. I scrolled through the pictures in his gallery, most of which were just black screens, and one selfie, until I reached that night. There was a video. I took a moment to second guess myself before I played it.

_“Hang on, did the person I talked to on the phone send you out here?” My voice, questions the Brick Roscoes._

_"Sure, whatever."_

_Tony turned and made a run for it. The Not Blind Brick took a few steps forward to chase him and then BANG! BANG! BANG!_

My blood ran cold. The person holding the fired gun wasn't a Brick...it was _me_. I had dove forward, picked Tony's discarded gun up off the ground, and loaded him up with lead. My heart pounded in my chest as I looked back up at Spencer, who was eating this whole thing up.

"What is this?" I demanded, my voice way shakier than I would have liked.

He chuckled. "The truth, Jack."


End file.
